


Fixated on you

by RedDevil6, SilentRain91



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Dom/sub Play, Edge Play, F/F, Knife Play, Lena Luthor Doesn't Know Kara Danvers is Supergirl, Light BDSM, NSFW, One Shot, Restraints, Russian Kara/Lena, Smut, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 13:09:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18250496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedDevil6/pseuds/RedDevil6, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentRain91/pseuds/SilentRain91
Summary: Lena wouldn’t say she pined after Supergirl…not necessarily. The girl of steel was attractive by any standard, Lena was sure. But Lena herself was only human. How could you expect her not to think of defined abs, muscular thighs, and perfect arms when the maiden of might's suit left nearly nothing to the imagination?Her first day off since she became CEO was supposed to be just that; a day alone away from work and L-corp and assassination attempts. However, it turned out much better than she expected when a certain blonde landed in her home and caught her at a most inopportune time.





	Fixated on you

**Author's Note:**

> This smut fic is brought to you by Red and Rain, as a gift for Supercorp winning the Zimbio poll. We both hope you will enjoy it, and if not, there's a lovely "X" in the corner you can click. 
> 
> Do not read this at work. You've been warned.

 

Lena emerged from her bedroom, clad in nothing but a dark emerald silk robe, which brought out her eyes. She tilted her head to the side, right hand rubbing at her neck as she let out a soft moan, feeling utterly relaxed after having pleasured herself to the image of Supergirl. The latter made her cheeks tinge red, knowing she whispered Supergirl’s name like a sacred, secret prayer, in the early hours of dawn.

Was she attracted to Supergirl? Of course, who wouldn’t? With muscles flexing in such a delicious way, it was inevitable not to fantasize about being thoroughly fucked to the point where her toes curled in pure ecstasy while clutching the sheets as she came down from an earth-shattering orgasm, rippling through her body like an unstoppable force, begging to be set free.

Her climax prior to getting out of bed had left her drenched in sweat and totally spent. The mere thought of peeling away Supergirl’s tight suit was enough to get her blood pumping, so it always guaranteed an exquisite experience – even if it was her fingers and not Supergirl’s pushing her over the edge.

Lena could still feel the slick of her arousal dripping against her thighs and the too-short-for-decent robe did nothing to ward off the chill of early morning air. For once she was glad that she called out, despite her pragmatic mind telling her it was a waste of time. Or was that the remnants of one Lillian Luthor’s influence echoing inside her head? It really didn’t matter which it was. There were only so many assassination attempts she could withstand before something had to give.

In the crisp embrace of a late-spring morning, completely sated and euphoric, Lena’s grumbling stomach growled in response to her night’s exertion. As incredible as Lena’s stamina was, her body required some sort of healthy sustenance for her to function properly. And coffee, definitely coffee. God knew she couldn’t get anything done before she had a cup, or two.

“What are you up to today, Supergirl?” Lena wondered quietly to herself as she reached for the remote and turned on the news. She padded barefoot into her kitchen, to grab what she needed to prep breakfast. She kept one ear trained on her television, casting quick glances whenever she could.

According to the latest update, Supergirl was off to Metropolis, picking up Superman’s slack. Okay no, Superman went back to Argo, which meant Supergirl worked twice as hard to protect the people of not only National City, but also the rest of the world. Lena would give anything to help Supergirl wind down after a long day of jet-setting across the globe, stopping crime left and right.

With that less than innocent thought still permeating her brain, Lena grabbed the vegetable knife out of the Japanese knives set displayed on her countertop. The Damascus steel of the blade glinted in the feeble light of a rising Sol, the Pakka wood handle fitting comfortably in her palm; Lena began deftly chopping and slicing vegetables for her veggie omelet. The repetitive nature of the activity allowed her to tune out everything else for a moment and get lost in her own head.

She imagined for a brief moment what it would feel like to be underneath Supergirl, the maiden of might’s strong arms bracketing her body and− Lena shook her head, banishing the thought from her mind for the time being.

Lena got startled out of the task at hand by the sound of something cracking behind her. In the split second it took her to whirl around, the intruder was already face to face with her; drowning her in familiar ocean blues. Yet, those eyes weren’t set on Lena, but rather on the piece of metal in her hand, fixated on it with curious wonder, studying every inch before those blues finally traveled up to map Lena’s features.

“Supergirl,” Lena uttered in a single breath, puffing out against the Goddess’ lips.

Only – something was off. Namely, four things, to be exact; if Lena counted them at a single glance. First of all, Supergirl wasn’t dossed out in her usual short skirt, which oftentimes had Lena dream about Supergirl begging on her knees, or well, trying to.  Instead, it was a mat grey suit; the kind with pants, sadly, although it wasn’t any less fitted to her impeccable body. On top of the plain color, it had red and black accents, reviving it a tad, tying it all together.

Secondly, Supergirl appeared to have decided near-summer days warranted a fuzzy hat, designed for vacations in Antarctica; Lena was sure. The girl of steel’s expression was unlike any Lena had ever witnessed on the heroine’s face. It was cold and stoic; the sort of mask that Lena herself wore to business meetings and hostile takeovers. Supergirl’s gaze was sharp, focused, bordering on predatory and her jaw was set. Her lips were tilting down at the edges and her complexion was pallid as if she hadn’t been in the sun for ages.

The last daughter of Krypton stood not in her usual pose with her fists on her hips but with her back ramrod straight, shoulders set back, head tilted upwards and hands clasped behind her back. Her legs were spread shoulder width apart in what Lena recognized as a military stance.

“You’re not Supergirl,” Lena concluded. Her voice was calm, too calm as to not betray the turmoil that she felt brewing inside of her. “Who are you and what the _hell_ are you doing in my penthouse?” she bit out, hoping her heartbeat wasn’t as erratic as her pulse felt, thrumming through her veins.

The false Supergirl cocked her head, eyes glinting as if they were crafted out of the finest gems one could possibly find on earth or any planet for that matter. She eyed Lena with such intense curiosity that the stare alone made the Luthor’s skin burn.  It seemed like this copycat was looking into her very soul, judging her, and Lena feared she would be found wanting.

Without providing an answer to Lena’s question – much to Lena’s dismay despite the spark of intrigue lingering in the background – the unknown stranger took a step closer and another until she had Lena completely cornered. Lena winced when her lower back hit the countertop, more out of embarrassment for letting the Super intimidate her rather than anything else, and somewhere in the midst of it all, she had dropped her knife.

Lena gasped at the feel of the blade against her throat, a sheer feeling of dread curling up inside her stomach, the sharpened blade trailed upwards from her collarbone to beneath her chin, the false super forcing Lena’s eyes to meet her own.

And in those depths of azure blue, Lena found an inkling of fascination that morphed her fear into some sort of twisted enticement. The knife was carelessly, almost sensually, trailing across the column of her neck and Lena wasn’t quite sure of the intent of its wielder. However, the only thing cutting her was the glare in those blue eyes, swirling treacherously red. Was this imposter here to hurt Lena, to kill her?

“If you’re going to kill me with my own knife, the least you can do is tell me who sent you. Was it Lex?”

“You are a peculiar creature, Lena Kieran Luthor. Why do you thirst so after someone who never gives you the time of day, the way I would? I can take you to heights she never will.”

Lena never thought she would ever face any version of Supergirl being even remotely interested in her, but here she was; laying eyes on someone who looked every inch the Super yet was a different person entirely.

Lena had to scoff at the ludicrous revelation. “You have some nerve impersonating Supergirl, thinking you’re better than her, but the truth of the matter is, you’ll never be half the woman Supergirl is. I may not be deserving of her time, but you certainly are not worthy of mine.”

Was it safe to provoke an unknown threat? Not likely, but she felt as if the statement was warranted. Shapely eyebrows furrowed deeply, false Supergirl taken aback. She seemed to recoil for a moment until rage flooded her features. Intrigued cerulean eyes morphed viciously and the knife that was so loftily caressing her skin was now embedded halfway to the hilt in Lena’s expensive granite counter. The crunch of stone sent Lena reeling back and for a moment her fear rippled underneath her skin.

The anger was so raw that Supergirl’s features twisted, her nostrils flared and the distinct red of heat vision intensified in her eyes, her hands gripped the counter and Lena could feel the stone crumble beneath her fingers. The sneer that was inches away from her face was truly the stuff of nightmares, but Lena refused to succumb to the intimidation. She was a Luthor after all.

Yet, the Supergirl Doppelganger (D.G) seemed to get a hold of herself; realizing that her control had slipped. D.G Supergirl blinked owlishly, the heat emanating from her eyes dissipating slowly, the blonde looked away; eyes shut.

“Hey,” Lena whispered, grasping D.G Supergirl’s chin between her thumb and index finger. The need to apologize hit Lena like a tidal wave because if she was honest, she knew nothing of this woman, and lashing out so carelessly was not how a Luthor was meant to behave.

Lena allowed this woman-of-her-dreams lookalike to slither under her skin, eliciting a reaction she should have kept to herself. That in itself relit Lena’s anger to the point where she, impulsively, crashed their lips together. If she couldn’t get the real deal, she may as well have a taste of the copy, right?

Before Lena could think better of it, back away, and cuss at herself for lacking the decency of establishing consent first; D.G Supergirl kissed back. Her lips were everything Lena imagined Supergirl’s lips would feel like, and more.

D.G Supergirl wrapped her arms around Lena, pulling their bodies flush together while her tongue teased the seam of Lena’s lips, requesting entrance Lena was more than eager to grant. Lena moaned into it, shuddering as their tongues met, topping her sweetest fantasies by tenfold.

This Supergirl was all but a shy participant. The Super’s teeth nipped and nibbled harshly, taking hold of Lena’s lower lip and sucking roughly. Fingers dug so hard into Lena’s thighs she was sure she’d have bruises in the morning, but at this point, she didn’t really care. Supergirl had pushed Lena’s thighs apart with one of her own and slotted herself between them. It didn’t take super senses to know that Lena was already drenched again; the wet spot growing on the Super’s thigh where Lena’s sex grinded diligently was evidence enough.

Powerful hands wandered lower and grasped the brunette’s ass, kneading the flesh possessively whilst their tongues dueled fervently. One of Lena’s hands snaked up and tangled itself in golden locks, pulling back D.G Supergirl’s head and guiding her towards her neck, and the Super gladly obliged. The fabric of the suit felt coarse against Lena’s sensitive skin, her pussy lips engorged and throbbing, the ribbed fabric of the suit gave enough friction but Lena wanted− nay, needed – to feel Supergirl’s skin against her own. Her free hand had wandered thoughtlessly and rested against Supergirl’s chest and Lena could feel the Super’s hardened nipple beneath her palm. It seemed she wasn’t the only one that had gotten excited.

“Bed,” Lena panted, tugging at the fine hairs at the nape of Supergirl’s neck, followed by a near-snarled, “now.”

Supergirl let out a growl of sorts, one resembling an alpha staking its claim. Her teeth scraped at Lena's pulse point, and the knife she stuck into the counter was yanked out in one swift move. “You are mine,” Supergirl sneered, lifting Lena into her arms. It wasn’t bridal style, no. Instead, Supergirl pretty much flung Lena over her shoulder.

Lena barely registered Supergirl had moved a muscle until debris fell around them as they crashed through the bloody wall. For someone who indubitably had heaps of strength to spare, the same couldn't be said about her patience. Lena’s robe was the next target of Supergirl’s thirsty onslaught, torn into shreds, joining the mess on the floor.

“You better ruin me next or else,” Lena warned, resenting the sliver of despair sounding through in her voice, but she couldn’t help but yearn to be devoured by Supergirl in any way the Super wanted her.

Supergirl smirked – the actual fucking audacity of that woman was infuriating – and pushed Lena onto the bed as she uttered, “You can count on me doing precisely that.”

Lena’s eyes darkened as nimble fingers peeled away the suit she had wanted gone since the minute their mouths collided. “Fuck me,” she whimpered, teasing her own breasts.

“Say please.”

Lena’s lips parted. “Are you fucking kidding me?” she shot back, appalled at the thought of a Luthor begging for release, even though when that mask came off, all she wished for was to let go fully and wholeheartedly and immerse herself in the world of submission.

Supergirl crossed her arms across her chest. The right corner of her lips inched up and the way she glanced down, radiating confidence, told Lena she didn’t come here to play. Lena’s eyes were drawn to rose dusted, erect nipples, enticing her to follow Supergirl’s command, but Lena kept her lips sealed, deciding not to give up all of her pawns at once.

Lena was darn good at keeping up a front and standing her ground, but she also knew full well the Super heard every breath she took; every skip of her heartbeat and moan she couldn’t quite muffle, which meant Supergirl might have overheard Lena’s nightly activities. Why else did this living Greek statue show up at Lena’s penthouse as the first rays of sunshine seeped in through the window?

“I won’t ask again, красивый _(beautiful)_ ,” Supergirl spoke, in a tone that could silence a crowd yet the foreign word rolling off of her tongue was much softer, carried out with the slightest quiver of her lips.

The awe behind it, the subtle caress despite the unmistaken authority; sent a jolt of arousal through Lena’s body, down to her very core. If she was any less stubborn, she would have already been on her knees, begging to be fucked, to be ravished. But her Luthor pride didn’t allow her such a luxury.

“You won’t ask again,” Lena noted, fully aware that was true. “And I’m not begging, Supergirl,” she added, tongue sharp as ever, in spite of the state of chaos her thoughts found themselves into, by the courtesy of one naked Kryptonian.

Lena’s eyes trailed down Supergirl’s body, from golden locks to toned shoulders, bulging biceps and chiseled abs; she was a goddess and, Luthor or not, Lena was only human.

Supergirl let out an indigent huff and with a quick scan of their surroundings; she was gone. For a hot minute, Lena believed she went too far; ruined her chance to seize this opportunity, but then Supergirl came back, bearing a surprise. And with that, Lena suddenly found herself tied to her bed; legs spread eagle while a now smirking Super eyed her with what could only be described as greed and lust. 

“Wait,” Lena said, which instantly brought Supergirl to a halt. Lena sucked in a breath, body feverish with anticipation. “You have to have a name. At least tell me your name first…please?”

Supergirl licked her lips, nodding as she seemed to think it through. Her movements were slow but precise when she joined Lena on the bed, bracketing her body with her arms and thighs. “You may call me Zoelle.”

“Zoelle,” Lena repeated; the sound curling sensually around her tongue.

“But for now, you will refer to me as Vixen. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” Lena gulped. “Vixen.”

A satisfied smile had etched itself onto Supergirl's lips. She nipped at Lena’s lower lip and sat up effectively straddling Lena’s hips. The blonde’s exposed pussy lips brushed lightly against the skin of her abdomen and at that moment all Lena could think about was having Zoelle slowly grind down on her. Apparently, though, Supergirl had different plans.

Zoelle placed her open palms against Lena’s chest and fixed the brunette with a rather scrupulous look. “If we do this, you’ll have to trust in me completely.” Zoelle’s hands leisurely trailed downwards, her hips rocking minutely, but the little friction it provided was not nearly enough.

“Do you have a safe word, любимый _(darling/pet)_?” Zoelle inquired as she bent down, exhibiting insane amounts of flexibility, and flicked her near serpentine tongue against Lena’s nipple as the latter watched helplessly.

Lena’s mind ground to a halt, the circuits in her brain misfired; it was one thing to imagine having those lips on her and another thing entirely for it to happen. The rush of excitation that inundated her nerve endings was simply surreal.

“N-no,” Lena answered. She hadn’t meant to stutter, never meant to be anything less than calm and collected, but at this point, it was truly out of Lena’s hands.

“Then we shall establish some. If you listen to me carefully, no harm shall come to you,” Zoelle said while she reached for the knife. “I wouldn’t want to cut such a breathtaking woman, not today, at least.”

Lena shivered at Zoelle admitting she wouldn’t be opposed to cutting her someday in such a poised way, it was surprising. It didn’t inspire fear, although it did make her particularly curious to find out which other lengths they could go to, together.

“When we proceed, I want you to keep in mind that if you use your safe word we will stop with no questions asked.”

“Yes, vixen,” Lena responded; surprising herself how easily the words were uttered, a sort of indirect verbal acknowledgment that she was certainly submitting, that she trusted Zoelle implicitly.

“Good girl,” Supergirl praised, caressing Lena’s torso almost lovingly. “When you want me to stop, you’ll answer with Red; when you want me to slow down, you’ll answer with Yellow, and when you’re okay to proceed you’ll answer with Green; do you understand?”

Lena nodded.

“I said, do you understand? Speak up for me, Lena,” Zoelle demanded.

“Yes, Vixen, I understand. Red to stop, Yellow to slow down, and Green to proceed.”

“Mhmm, that’s my good girl,” Zoelle purred. She leaned in, capturing Lena’s lips in a sweet kiss.

The possessive comment caused a flutter to blossom in her chest and Lena was instantly hooked on the feeling. “White knight,” Lena muttered after a brief moment of consideration. It wasn’t something she used often and it was distinct enough to be easily noticeable when said, and it had personal significance, hence easily remembered.

“простите _(Pardon)_?”

“My safe word,” Lena clarified. “It’s white knight.”

Zoelle nodded resolutely, she trailed the tip of the blade down the valley of Lena’s breasts, pressing hard enough to draw a gasp from Lena’s lips without breaking her skin. The cold feeling mixed in with Zoelle’s growing wetness touching her abdomen, made Lena’s toes curl. A sharp moan was pulled out of Lena when Zoelle used her freeze breath on Lena’s already sensitive nipples, dusting them with the tiniest frosty layer.

“What can I say?” Zoelle hummed. “I like a little icing on the cake,” she uttered with a wink.

The chuckle that resonated deep within Zoelle’s throat forced a gush of wetness down Lena’s thighs, and when she tried to press them together, all she managed to do was tug helplessly on the ankle restraints that kept her legs separated. The leather of Lena’s bindings dug into her skin, and the slight twinge of pain tore a needy moan from her mouth.

Zoelle seemed to take advantage of her powers, and in a flash; she was gone and back, straddling Lena’s hips, holding a slim satin tie Lena had stashed away in the depths of her closet. X-ray vision, of course.

“May I?” Zoelle all but husked into Lena’s ear from her perch.

“Yes, Vixen,” Lena nearly whimpered, biting her lip.

Zoelle left a streak of wetness smeared over the creamy expanse of Lena’s soft skin as she moved up to wind the fabric across Lena’s eyes, securing it comfortably behind the brunette’s head. Using the flat side of the blade much like a paddle, Zoelle let the knife connect with Lena’s side; no doubt reddening her pale complexion.

The unexpectedness of the action jerked Lena’s hips upward, arching into Zoelle. But Zoelle clearly had different plans as she brought her knee to Lena’s soaking pussy, grinding down, causing Lena to writhe at the contact. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Lena fought the ripple of pleasure, not wanting to come just yet, having more stamina and self-control than that, although Zoelle gave her one hell of a run for her money.

“Fuck,” Lena uttered aloud, followed by a sharp cry. “Fuck me.”

Zoelle hummed, almost teasingly. “All in due time, любимец _(darling/pet)_ , you only cum when I allow you to, понятый _(understood)_?”

“Yes, Vixen. Anything you say,” Lena answered, reveling in the intoxicating surrender of submission.

“So obedient you are, perhaps you do deserve a reward, покорный _(submissive one)_.”

The fondness in her tone did not betray the fact Zoelle was able to bend steel to her will, and Lena would bend willingly if Vixen were to ask it of her.

Lena's approaching climax pushed her to the edge of begging with all her might. The promise of a reward did nothing to ease the twitch of Lena's clit. She wanted Zoelle, and she wanted her now. With that thought in mind, Lena tried to grind harder into Zoelle’s knee, but Zoelle pushed her hips down with one hand; the sharp edge of the blade pressed against her throat made Lena go stock still.

“Getting a little too excited there, котенок _(kitten)_ ,” the blonde taunted.

Lena felt the tip of the knife dig into her skin at the base of her throat with every inhale, and her pussy clenched around nothing but emptiness. Her near moans turned into little whines, but Zoelle simply held the knife firmly in place, dragging one side of the blade flush across Lena’s upper chest.

Zoelle appeared to relent, and suddenly the reassuring weight of the Kryptonian and the knife were gone. Everything seemed too still and the quiet put Lena on edge.

“Hello? Vixen?” Lena turned her head to the side as best she could, listening for any sort of movement to no avail. Had Zoelle left while Lena was at her mercy, tied up and blindfolded? “Zoelle?” Lena called out.

“Disobeying me so soon?” Zoelle's voice came through with a tsk-sound. “I told you to refer to me as Vixen. Maybe you don't deserve a reward after all, but rather a punishment.”

Without the slightest warning, Lena felt two fingers entering her, causing her to move her hands in any way she could, attempting to clutch anything she could reach to anchor herself.

“Color?” Zoelle prompted, fingers stilling.

“G-green,” Lena’s voice trembled; the subtle burn enough to push her to the brink of orgasm. “Definitely green.”

“Good,” Zoelle hummed. “You will not cum until I allow you to. You disobeyed me once. Disobey me again, and you will face the consequences. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes, Vixen,” Lena cried out in a whine.

Lena felt the sharp point of the blade trace the outlines of her lips, slow and sensual, drawing a faint exhale from her mouth. She parted her lips at the sensation of having one of her most sensitive places touched; never having realized how much she could enjoy cold steel against hot skin. And next thing she knew, Zoelle put something in her mouth.

“A sweet reward for my sweet peach,” Zoelle mused. “Eat up.”

Lena did as she was told and within seconds, juices oozed out of what appeared to be fruit; a strawberry, to be exact. One of her absolute favorites, how did Zoelle know? Lena moaned at the taste, moreover when Zoelle kissed her to share the sweetness.

Zoelle nibbled at Lena’s lower lip and simultaneously Lena felt the knife trail up her inner thigh, sending a shiver down her spine. Lena needed more, so much more. Her cunt begged to be fucked, walls clenching at the mere thought of screaming the Super’s name until her voice was rendered hoarse and her body spent. Her fingers flexed and she pulled uselessly trying to grab purchase; something, anything, to leverage herself in a way to get the relief she craved, but Zoelle was having none of it.

The more Lena squirmed, the harder Zoelle kissed her. First deepening the kiss, then nipping and biting at her lip and tongue, then biting so hard she broke skin. The metallic taste that coated Lena’s lips was strange, it intermixed in their mouths as they locked lips more fiercely, teeth clashing and scraping. It took a minute for Lena to realize where the taste of iron came from; it was her own blood. The remnants of the strawberry brushed against her lips again and it stung, at the same time Zoelle pinched Lena’s nipple between her fingers and tugged the sensitive flesh harshly.

“Color?” Zoelle’s gravelly voice was hoarse and scratchy, puffs of hot air hitting Lena’s skin when Zoelle spoke.

“Green.” Lena sounded so needy, almost begging. “I need you inside me, p-please,” she uttered when she could no longer resist.

“Such neediness,” Zoelle taunted, moving the knife lower, drawing a cold path down Lena’s chest without it hurting, although that didn’t make the underlying warning any less real. “You’re so wet for me,” Zoelle commented, “dripping on your sheets like that. You want to come, don’t you?”

“Yes!” Lena damn near screamed. “Yes, Vixen,” she corrected quickly, though perhaps not fast enough when in the presence of a Super.

“You can’t. Not yet,” Zoelle stated, strong and commanding. “If you want me inside of you, you’ll have to beg for it, and it better be convincing or I’ll take off your blindfold and have you watch me fuck myself without letting you come, no matter how much you whimper.”

“Oh come on,” Lena groaned silently, but with Zoelle’s super hearing she may as well have been shouting it off of the rooftop. “Fuck,” Lena whispered, unsure whether to regret her slip up or roll with it some more to get under Zoelle’s skin. Part of Lena did wonder what Zoelle would do.

Lena’s unvoiced question was answered when she felt Zoelle nick her thigh, drawing a much louder, “Fuck!” from Lena’s lips.

“Okay, okay,” Lena rushed out, with intrigue and utter perplexity at Zoelle daring to go there. Not that Lena minded one bit, especially not when a hot mouth closed around the same space the blade had previously touched her, sucking. Sucking! Oh, dear, God!

“Please fuck me, I beg of you. Please, Vixen,” Lena caved in, hearing the despair in her own voice, but every fiber in her body screamed to comply, no matter the cost. “Please, I need you inside of me. I fucking crave you. You know I do, Vixen. I’m yours like you want me to be. So take me. Please, Vixen.”

“Good girl,” Zoelle purred, licking a broad stripe from Lena’s inner thigh up to where Lena needed her most.

Lena screwed her eyes shut beneath the silk fabric of the tie, holding her breath as Zoelle’s tongue connected with her clit. If Zoelle told Lena she could come right now, she would; that was how close Lena was to tipping over the edge.

Zoelle’s hands slid under Lena’s ass, apparently having abandoned the knife for now, and her nails dug into Lena’s skin as she buried her face in Lena’s wet sex. Zoelle moaned, fucking moaned, the gentle sound of it vibrating through Lena’s core, forcing her to bite down hard on her bottom lip, tasting her own blood, to keep from coming.

Zoelle’s tongue flicked rapidly against Lena’s clit, so rapidly that Lena had trouble keeping still. Shock after shock of pleasure coursed through her body, her moaning intensifying with each varied stroke, flick, and swirl of the Kryptonian’s tongue. Without much notice Zoelle’s fingers, three of them, were buried knuckle deep inside of Lena as if it was her single-minded dedication to drive Lena to the brink of madness, but she dare not cum. It wasn’t fear that posed the issue, not really; it was the mere thought of disappointing Zoelle – nay, Vixen – that had Lena clinging to the last vestiges of her control.

Lena felt Zoelle’s fingers curl inside of her, and the guttural scream that reverberated throughout the room was unlike anything that had ever reached her ears, so much so, she didn’t recognize herself. Something about the noise was so downright filthy and vulgar; Lena’s cheeks warmed and her clit twitched, demanding attention.

“I need to cum, Zoelle, please; let me cum,” she begged and implored. A proud Luthor rendered nothing but a moaning, pleading heap at a super’s feet. Oh, the irony of it all.

Lena had been gasping for air, greedy lung-fulls of it that didn’t even seem to satisfy her need for oxygen, right on the cusp of an orgasm so iridescent she now understood why the French had called it a little death. One moment she had been near the height of her pleasure − body arching and contorting, riding Zoelle’s fingers and tongue so wantonly – and the next her cunt ached with the gaping emptiness that befell her so suddenly.

Her confusion, however, was short-lived. Blinding light replaced the blessed darkness of the blindfold and the sight of a frowning Kryptonian greeted Lena.

“Did I not tell you to address me as Vixen, naughty girl?” The Kryptonian admonished and the downturn of her lips caused Lena to blanch.

“Yes, Vixen. I swear I didn’t mean to, I couldn’t control myself-” A single arched eyebrow was Zoelle's only response as she leaned back and looked pensive for a moment.

“Should I punish you for your insubordination or should I be merciful?” Zoelle wondered aloud.

The minute tremble of Lena’s lower lip infuriated her so much; she had disobeyed, lost control in a moment of vulnerability, and disappointment rang hollow in her chest. She whimpered and looked away, anticipating the punishment that Zoelle would serve. Yet to her utter surprise, Zoelle grabbed hold of her chin gently and meshed their lips together softly. Her nimble fingers traced down Lena’s soft stomach and gripped her full thighs. The sensual touch made Lena sigh ever so wistfully into Zoelle’s mouth.

But then, out of nowhere, a new sensation struck Lena like a chord. Zoelle backed away, eyes dark and lips twisted into something wicked to the point where she may as well have been the devil incarnate; the fun yet scary kind, capable of anything and everything when one least expected it. Lena’s eyes rolled into the back of her head, gasping out “Vixen” when Zoelle pushed the hilt of the knife into Lena’s cunt, fingers clenched around the blade. Lena’s hips jerked and stuttered as she fucked herself on the hilt, bursts of super speed and her own desperate need drove her to the apex at a record pace.

Yet again, the minute Lena was about to beg for release, Zoelle ripped the hilt away and crawled over Lena. She whimpered; body coiled tightly, and the awning emptiness frustrated her to no end. Zoelle positioned herself above Lena, kiss-reddened lips right beside the brunette’s ear.

“Did you really think disobeying me would have no consequences whatsoever?” The growl was animalistic and instinctively dangerous, like a predator toying with its prey and Lena couldn’t help the shudder that traversed her spine.

“I’m going to spank that soaking little pussy of yours, котенок _(kitten)_ , and you’re going to count, and for each missed spank, you’ll receive two in its place, Понял _(understood)_?”

Lena nodded frantically. “Yes, Vixen.” Her body couldn’t take much more of this; the constant back and forth was wearing on her self-restraint.

The feeling of something icy and hard colliding with her engorged pussy lips jolted Lena. “one, Vixen.”

Zoelle seemed satisfied with this and proceeded to lay several spanks to Lena’s pussy, often cooling or heating the knife sporadically. The temperature extremes were making Lena dizzy in the most delicious way imaginable. The distraction it caused nearly made her fumble the count but she held on, trying more often than not to ground herself. She locked gazes with Zoelle several times, and every time she did so, Lena was rewarded with several consecutive spanks; some nearly too fast for the human eye.

By the time Lena had counted till twenty, Zoelle appeared to relent. The blonde resumed her position kneeling between Lena’s parted thighs and flicked her serpentine tongue against sensitized folds. If Lena thought things could not feel more intense, she was proven wrong within seconds.

Zoelle was so skilled with her tongue, so masterful of her craft, that Lena had forgotten all of her amassed knowledge, and could only utter the word “Vixen” in varying degrees of crescendo.

The mounting pressure inside her swelled and ebbed, curling in on itself and Lena was nearly there, she feared Zoelle wouldn’t allow her the release but she begged anyway. “May I cum, Vixen? I’m almost there.”

“You may not, my little kitten.” The words were whispered into Lena’s cunt, the cool puffs of air offering very little relief, her cunt clenched once, and Zoelle arched a brow. “Yearning for another punishment so soon?” The smirk Zoelle offered Lena was deadly, and her eyes were alight with flames bursting to life, gorgeous and magnificent in the most tempting form.

Lena simply groaned and threw her head back, she was at Zoelle’s mercy and there was no place she would rather be, lest it be buried into her goddess’ pussy.

Zoelle accelerated her pace; her already diligent ministrations became almost ruthless. Her fingers joined her mouth once again and they pumped in some kind of inverse rhythm. Zoelle’s tongue flicked against Lena’s clit, her agile fingers pushed in near completely, and when the Kryptonian’s fingers pulled out, she sucked Lena’s clit between her lips, and Lena swore, in those moments, she saw the gates of heaven.

Mere minutes later Lena could no longer beg. She had lost all ability to form cohesive sentences; speech reduced to gibberish and exerted huffs. “V-vixen…Cum, need to…PLEASE.” But yet again her pleas fell upon deaf ears.  Zoelle, it seemed, was adamant on torturing Lena to the very brink of her limit.

Lena resigned to her fate; sure she wouldn’t last longer than one additional minute before collapsing due to exertion. Begging was futile at this point, maybe it always had been, perhaps Zoelle aimed to ruin Lena by wrecking her pussy, which was by any means – orgasm or not – a successful mission.

“Now,” Zoelle spoke, awareness dawning on Lena like a spark snapping her back to the present. “You can come now,” Zoelle asserted with a nod, diving between Lena’s legs, entering her with that quick tongue, tearing a sharp cry from the back of Lena’s throat.

“Vixen!” Lena moaned, body pulsating as her orgasm broke free. “Fuck, Vixen. F-fuck, so…so g-good. Mhmm, fuck, yes. Oh, thank fuck.”

Lena stared at Zoelle in awe, lips parted while Zoelle inched closer, awaiting her turn for a taste. Lena wanted to thank the stars and whatever deity was out there when Zoelle grasped her hair, fisting her hands into it, bringing her dripping sex near Lena’s face.

“This might get messy,” Zoelle heeded. “Color?” she inquired, pussy hovering above Lena’s mouth.

“Green,” Lena answered, almost adding please due to how badly she wanted to lick into Zoelle and make her come.

With a faint hum, Zoelle settled down, thighs straddling Lena’s cheeks, clit aligned with Lena’s welcoming tongue.

Lena began her task; making it her goal to get Zoelle off, to be so lucky as to draw whimpers and moans from those angelic though devilish lips. Lena’s tongue worked up a frenzy, lapping at Zoelle’s wetness, humming while her face slowly but surely became drenched in Zoelle’s juices.

“Ебать _(fuck)_ ,” Zoelle moaned; the word entirely foreign to Lena, although she could take a rough guess as to what Zoelle said.

Zoelle rolled her hips, matching Lena’s pace, whimpering when Lena made a genuine effort to speed up as much as humanly possible, and God, she was going to be so fucking spent after this she might literally pass out, but that didn’t stop her one bit from pouring her all into pleasuring Zoelle.

Zoelle grinded harder, shutting off a part of Lena’s air-supply, but Lena couldn’t be assed to even think about complaining. She soldiered on, reaching sweet victory when Zoelle, after strung-out anticipation, came.

“Lena,” Zoelle moaned; sensual and sexy, riding out the waves, whimpering Lena’s name in absolute devotion.

Zoelle floated away, gentle in her movements as she untied Lena’s wrists, kissing each one, followed by her ankles. Lena’s skin felt a little sore, but Zoelle’s ice-coated lips did wonders to ease the pain.

“You’ve been a good girl, for our first time together,” Zoelle praised, raining fluttering kisses all over Lena’s body. “I’ll take care of you,” Zoelle promised, pressing a lingering kiss to Lena’s forehead.

Lena closed her eyes, and when she opened them, Zoelle stood by her side holding a basin, a washcloth, and a cup with ice chips in it. Zoelle delicately placed an ice chip onto Lena’s lip, wetting it slightly, encouraging her to take it. Zoelle dipped the cloth in lukewarm water, wiping away the sweat that had streaked down Lena’s face, and brushed her mussed hair back. The Kryptonian’s actions were so sweet and soft; one would almost forget what she had been doing to Lena mere minutes ago. Yet that contrast made those tender gestures all the more special.

Zoelle soothingly rubbed a calming balm onto Lena’s wrists and ankles, surveying for abrasions or cuts. Giving a satisfied nod at their absence, she moved to wipe down Lena’s body.

“May I?” Her voice was nearly reverent and for a moment Lena wasn't sure if Zoelle was speaking to her.

Zoelle was patient and looked upon her softly. Lena nodded, giving Zoelle free reign. The goddess wiped away the scent of sex off Lena’s skin, caressed her sides delicately and bandaged any cuts she might have made. Moving inwards towards Lena’s center, she glanced up again and Lena gave a weak nod. The brunette was really touched at the care Zoelle showed. Lena expected the blonde to leave now that she had gotten what she wanted.

Once the cloth was set aside, the tiny cuts bandaged and her bruises tended to, Zoelle climbed into the bed by Lena’s side and curled up behind her. The goddess pulled Lena’s exhausted body into her own and wrapped strong arms across her midriff like a safety blanket.

Lena’s vision blurred and she was about to drift off to sleep for a while, to replenish her energy, when she wondered if she saw double or if Zoelle had moved toward the foot of her bed in such a subtle way Lena hadn’t even felt it happen.

Only, the familiar blonde standing in Lena’s bedroom wore a suit she knew all too well, with a tantalizingly short skirt. Hands rested firmly on hips, the stance revealing its owner.

“Supergirl,” Lena realized with a start, eyes widening.

Supergirl gaped, gaze flickering intermediately between the debris that was once the bedroom wall, Zoelle, and Lena. Meanwhile, Lena was at a loss for words, waiting with bated breath for Supergirl to say something.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Drop a like and a comment, and until next time! :) 
> 
> p.s: Zoelle is kind of a mash-up of the Zo in Zor with Elle from El added to it.


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